


The Garage

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bi-Curiosity, Canon Gay Character, F/M, Internal Conflict, M/M, Male Slash, Multi, One Shot, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Secret Relationship, This is trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: It was sickening for him to admit and for all he wished he could deny that Thomas was handsome, the fact stood: he was quite lovely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Look who's back...the procrastinator...who stills needs to finish writing the next chapter of 'Needs Must'.
> 
> Never mind, I will finish it eventually.
> 
> For now, I've started this little story. Tom/Thomas is my ultimate weakness and I have been itching to write something like this. The chapters won't be too long and I will warn you all now, Thomas and Tom will not fall in love.  
> They will remain something along the lines of 'friends with benefits'.
> 
> Be prepared, I've written this very quickly and since I have no Beta, I've checked this story myself for errors and whatnot but you do end up with tunnel vision.  
> I apologise in advance if there are any errors.

Ever since he had been a young lad, Tom Branson had loved watching the sun set. He had seen around twenty-two sunsets in his lifetime and on every occasion, Tom was never able to find the right words to express his amazement at the sight of a lilac rose-hued sky melt into an expanse of deep indigo, speckled by multitudes of glistening lights. Now, shining above the Yorkshire Dales, a canopy of luminous stars twinkled amongst the inky night sky. Some stars were dull, barely noticeable and only flickered on occasion but the rest were bright, shimmering things and that served to illuminate the dark, moonless night.

Tom was so in awe of their beauty, he did not realise that he had company.

“Nice night for it,” came a voice to his right.

Tom turned, half expecting to find Lady Sybil by his side. The young aristocrat had become a frequent visitor to the garage over the past few weeks. Tom always enjoyed the time spent in her company and recently, Tom had even dared to flirt and was delighted to find that his boldness was rewarded with reciprocation. Sybil was stunning, breathtakingly beautiful and more importantly, she was compassionate and clever. She had fire in her, passion and a deep interest in politics and socialism, particularly in women’s suffrage. Sybil Crawley was a breath of fresh air and Tom found himself drawn to her. Perhaps he even loved her.

Unfortunately, Lady Sybil was not by his side. Thomas Barrow was, cigarette in hand.

The last person on this earth Tom wanted to speak to.

Thomas was smug, snide and slippery; three qualities that Tom did not find admirable or likeable. Thomas strutted about the Abbey like a prized peacock, using his position as first-footman as an excuse to bully poor, gentle William, the second footman who despite his naivety and clumsiness, was a far better man. Thomas may have the looks and he may have wit but how worthy was looks and charm when he was so ugly underneath his veneer of arrogance and vanity? Besides, Tom had heard whispers that Thomas and his ally O’Brian, Lady Grantham’s maid, were trying to have Mr Bates sacked so that Thomas could become his Lordship’s valet. They were snakes, both of them and Tom hoped that their schemes would be foiled. It would serve Thomas right if he was the one to be booted out of Downton instead of Mr Bates.

“Can I help you, Thomas?” Tom addressed him bluntly, eyeing the young man suspiciously. “Shouldn’t you be inside by now? Mr Carson will be locking the back door soon.”

The footman gave Tom one of his infamous smirks and below smoke from his lips. “No, it’s only half past nine. Carson won’t be locking the door for another hour or so.”

“What business do you have out here then?” Tom asked him coldly. In all truth, he couldn’t care less about Thomas and his business, unless the man was up to no good.

Thomas shrugged his shoulders a little and dropped his cigarette onto the ground, snubbing it out with his foot. “O’Brien is in one of her moods and isn’t particularly good company tonight. I was taking a quick stroll whilst I had my last smoke and I saw light coming from the open garage door. Here I find you staring up at the sky.” He glanced upwards before he looked back at Tom. “Are you an astronomer as well as a socialist?” Thomas smirked again, mocking the chauffer.

“I just like looking at the stars,” Tom said, giving Thomas as little information as possible in the hope that the man would become bored and walk away.

Thomas shrugged, “fair enough,” and stuck his hand into his breast pocket.

Tom watched the footman rummage in his jacket. To Tom’s disbelief, Thomas pulled out his cigarette packet and promptly popped another cigarette between his teeth and began a search for his lighter.

Tom tutted and shook his head, pointing towards the crumpled remains of the trodden cigarette that lay on the ground by the footman’s feet. “You’ve only just finished that one!”.

“So?” Thomas mumbled, his words muffled by the fag that was still between his lips.

Tom showed his disdain for the footman’s obsessive smoking habit by crinkling his nose in disgust but as he watched Thomas raise his lighter, he suddenly found himself captivated by the small, flickering flame that illuminated Thomas’s pale cheeks with an eerie amber glow. His gaze was drawn to Thomas’s pursed red lips that held his cigarette in place. As Thomas raised his lighter and bowed his head, a light breeze ruffled his hair and caused a few strands to fall over his downcast eyes. Then the cigarette was ignited, it’s rear burning bright orange before fading to black as a stream of smoke ghosted over Thomas’s lips. Those lips parted again, revealing the very tips of Thomas’s straight, white teeth, only to wrap themselves around the cigarette again as the Thomas inhaled deeply.

“That’s your vice isn’t it, smoking?” Tom asked thickly, swallowing a lump in his throat as Thomas bright, grey eyes flickered upwards. “It’s a bad habit.”

Thomas below a smoke ring into the air and refused to answer, instead choosing to smirk as his gleaming mischievously. Seeing that Tom had nothing to add, Thomas closed his eyes and took another deep drag, smiling blissfully around the rolled-up paper. Tom thought that he looked strangely appealing. It was sickening for him to admit and for all he wished he could deny that Thomas was handsome, the fact stood: he was quite lovely. His ivory skin looked velvety smooth to touch and contrasted perfectly with his ebony hair. Thomas’s neat, red mouth reminded Tom of cherries, but also of Lady Sybil for she too had a striking mouth. Perhaps that was why Tom was able to find Thomas attractive; he could see Sybil’s colouring in him.

“Studying me now?” Thomas teased, but before the Irishman could get a word I he added, “I’ve not come here to ask you for anything, I’m just bored.”

Tom sighed and asked, “Right, so what do you want then?”

He may be something of a delightful view but Tom had very little patience when it came to Thomas.

The footman frowned and fixed Tom with a cold stare. “I told you, I’m bored,” he said, “Pff. Nobody’s in a chatty mood tonight, are they?”

“Because you’re always the chatty type,” Tom drawled, suspicious of Thomas’s motives. This was the most pointless conversation he had ever had.

Thomas huffed and barged past the Irishman to enter the garage. Tom was thrown off guard and was left spluttering as he whipped around to glare at his impertinent companion. “Er, excuse me!” he began, only to be interrupted by Thomas who was now leaning against Lord Grantham’s car.

“Do you like working in here?” Thomas asked loudly as his eyes roamed about the room. “We rarely saw the last bloke. He hardly spoke to anyone of us but you, you always come into the servant’s hall for a chat.” He took another drag from his tab before shrugging. “Frankly, I don’t blame you.”

Tom took three steps forward and forked his fingers through his hair, completely at a loss for what to do. “Well, you can’t blame a man for wanting some company when he works alone for most of the day. Thomas, it’s late and even if Carson normally locks the door later, he could lock it earlier tonight. Besides, I’ve got things I need to be getting on with.”

“Wanting rid of me already? Thomas snickered, “I thought you wanted some company.”

“Not yours,” Tom thought to himself. If Thomas did not vacate the garage in the next minute, he was may consider throwing him out of the door. A mere second spent in the young man’s company was enough to exhaust anyone and Tom really was losing his patience.

Thomas turned his head slightly to the right and blew smoke from his lips. He caught sight of a small stack of newspapers on Tom’s desk and shook his head. “What are they?” He pointed in their direction. “Some socialist rag or another?” He didn’t wait for an answer before turning back to face Tom. “But never mind the papers. I’m wondering what tasks do you need to be getting on with at this hour?”

Without hesitating, Tom rushed, “Polishing. I have to polish the car.”

“Looks to me like it’s already been polished,” Thomas smiled, giving the shining vehicle at his back a gentle tap.

Steeling himself, Tom pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and began to massage his skin. He could feel a dull ache in his skull and he didn’t have the energy to deal with Thomas. As he withdrew his hand, Tom and suggested, “Why don’t you go back to the Abbey? I’m not in the mood to see anyone, let alone you and it’s getting late. I really don’t need you winding me up –“

Thomas snorted as he took another drag from his cigarette. “You’re worse than William,” he teased. “I hope you can take a joke when Lady Sybil comes to see you! She -”

Something inside of Tom snapped. He strode forward and curled his hand around the footman’s bicep to violently yank Thomas away from the car. He was thrown off balance and collided with Tom’s chest.

“Thomas, I’m warning you,” Tom warned him firmly as he gripped the front of his vest. “I don’t know what you’re implying but you better not try and start trouble with me.” The footman laughed mockingly and it took every ounce of Tom’s strength not to hit him. He did give Thomas a hard shake and thankfully Thomas had the sense to shut up. When the footman remained silent, Tom glared at him for a moment before he continued, “You bullied William earlier today and got him into trouble with Mr Carson. I saw it with my own eyes and it was wrong of you,” Tom chided. “I was downstairs sitting with a couple of the day maids having a cup of tea and I felt awfully sorry for him. You also drove Mr Bates up the wall with your never-ending torments and now you’ve come here to wind me up, have you? You gallivant about the place like you’re the Lord of the damn manor but let me tell you this, that pretty face of yours won’t last forever will it? Then what will you have because that’s all you’ve got going for you since there’s no kindness in your heart!”

“I have a pretty face, do I?” Thomas sneered, his callous response earning him another hard shake from Tom. He tried to push against Tom’s chest to shove him away but the Irishman didn’t budge an inch.

Tom refused to rise to his bait. He couldn’t continue to bandy words with Thomas, not when he was so close to punching the man square in the jaw. He chose to remain silent, breathing raggedly through his nose as he bore into Thomas. For weeks now, Tom had longed to put the arrogant bastard in his place, to show him that bullies were worth _nothing_. He ran his tongue across his teeth and continued to glare. As he was standing so close, Tom noticed how Thomas’s eyes quickly flickered downwards. He seemed to glance at Tom’s mouth or possibly his neck. Neither man moved but Tom dug his fingers deeper into Thomas’s arms, gripping the man so tightly he was likely hurting Thomas. Rather than attempting to hit Tom or break free, Thomas seemed to shudder a little beneath his hands. The footman’s mouth was set in a firm line and his shoulders were squared but his eyes wouldn’t settle. They flitted between Tom’s eyes, some other feature on his face and the hands that were squeezing his body.

“Will you ever learn your damn lesson?” Tom warned, his tone menacing. “Will you ever fucking learn, Thomas?”

“Learn what exactly?” Thomas snarled. He tilted his chin upwards in a haughty fashion and narrowed his eyes at the chauffer, daring the man to explain, to hit him, to do _something_. He looked proud, imposing and hostile, but Tom caught it; a slight quiver of the lip.

“Let me go,” Thomas demanded, pushing against Tom’s chest again as he tried to writhe away.

There was something about Thomas…something that Tom couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was the way his eyes had flitted about, staring at Tom’s mouth. It was the way he pushed and tugged at Tom, as though he was baiting Tom into a fight rather than attempting to escape.

“Get your filthy hands off me, Branson!”

Daisy, the sweet kitchen maid, followed Thomas around like a puppy and constantly made eyes at him. She stood a little straighter whenever he strode into the room and if Thomas spoke to her, she blushed and often couldn’t meet his eye. She was besotted with him and it was obvious, so obvious that it was something of a running joke between the servants. William had taken a fancy to Daisy and from what Tom had heard, it was only then that Thomas began to really take notice of Daisy. He practically dangled her on a string in front of William and would purposely try to embarrass him in front of the girl. Thomas flirted and teased her but he never asked Daisy to join him for a stroll. He never asked her to go to the pictures or to a dance. He never brought her flowers or any other sweet gifts.

Tom suddenly received a hard, sharp kick to the shin.

“Get _off!_ ” Thomas cried, kicking him again.

Tom winched and hissed in pain whilst Thomas pushed at his chest again. He still clung to the footman but his grip had weakened slightly and Thomas took the opportunity to shove Tom’s arms away.

“Honestly!” Thomas spat, “you should watch yourself from now on, Branson. You’ve got quite the temper, haven’t you?”

Tom ground his teeth and shook his head at Thomas, silently warning him to shut his mouth.

“What would Lady Sybil think if she found out you were such a brute?” Thomas mocked him cruelly, taking delight from the murderous expression he received from the chauffer.

Thomas’s scathing remark did it.

Tom lunged and slammed Thomas into the car. The impact made a horrible bang and he immediately realised that was quiet possibly the stupidest decision he had ever made as he could have dented Lord Grantham’s car. Thomas cried out in pain but Tom refused to care and threw Thomas away from the car, although Tom kept hold of his arm. Whilst Thomas fired expletives at him, Tom roamed his eyes over the car and was thankfully to find that there was no damage. Thomas had not been heavy enough to dent the strong metal and Tom sighed in relief.

“That was bloody clever of you wasn’t it?” Thomas scolded. “If you had damaged the car, I’d shown Mr Carson the bruises I’ll likely have and then you would have had it.”

“I’d have told Mr Carson that you were the instigator and that you got what you bloody well deserved!” Tom raged as he shoved Thomas in the direction of the garage door. “Get out, Thomas. Get out now before I drag you back to Abbey myself and throw you at Carson’s feet!”

Thomas laughed bitterly and pulled yet another cigarette from his pocket. “You know, Branson,” he said, smiling coldly, “if I was you, I’d be careful from now on. I came here with good intentions, happy to make conversation and I get thrown into his Lordship’s car by an Irish mick who can’t control his temper.”

“You watch your mouth, you –“ Tom cried, only to be interrupted.

“Ahh, you see? That temper of yours really is no good.” Thomas’s smile faded from his face and he took a forward to crowd Tom. “I know about you and Lady Sybil. So does O’Brien and you’ll remember that she is her Ladyship’s maid. She trusts O’Brien and she’ll listen to her when she’s told that her daughter is carrying on with the greasy chauffeur!”

Tom could strangle Thomas if he wanted to. He could ring the little whelp’s neck and throw his body into a bloody river. Nobody knows that the bastard is currently in the garage. Nobody knows that Tom despises him. He could bloody well do it, he could kill him.

“I happen to not mind Lady Sybil and I think she could do much better than you anyways.” Thomas said darkly, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “So you watch yourself from now on.”

Tom swallowed as Tomas gave him one last cold grin and turned away. Just as Thomas rounded the corner of the door frame, Tom stretched a hand out and pulled him back. In that very moment, Tom experienced an epiphany.

“I think I know about you as well, Thomas Barrow.” He growled in Thomas’s ear.

“Do you now?” Thomas drawled, supremely unconcerned.

This time it was Tom who smirked. He marched forwards and pushed past Thomas, earning him an irritated tut from the startled footman. Without looking at the other man, Tom slammed the garage door shut. The noise echoed around the room and a part of Tom wondered whether someone in the Abbey heard the bang. Thomas was speaking, possibly demanding that Tom explain himself or open the door but Tom couldn’t hear him, he could only hear his pulse drumming in his ears as his heart galloped in his chest. He felt breathless, lightheaded even and his palms were now covered with a light film of sweat. Swallowing again, he composed himself before he turned to face Thomas.

For once, Thomas looked nervous.

“Open that door!” Thomas demanded, “I’m going back to the Abbey.”

“Not just yet,” Tom said calmly, taking a step forwards. “I’m going to give you a warning of my own.” He stepped forward again, and again until he was positioned right in front of the scowling footman. “Why is it that you never take Daisy out, Thomas? She’s obviously smitten with you and she’s not an unattractive young girl, yet you barely give her the time of day.”

Thomas scoffed and threw his arms out to the side. “And? Just because she has taken a shine to me doesn’t mean I have to fancy her, does it? Attraction isn’t always mutual.”

“She never had a chance in the first place, did she?” Tom said softly, conscious

Thomas clinched his jaw and deepened his scowl. It was clear that he was starting to panic and Tom was all too happy to make him sweat.

“She’s just not your type, is she?” Tom continued, a smile playing upon the corners of his lips.

After a few moments of silence, Thomas finally cleared his throat and calmly replied, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh I think you do, Thomas.” Tom shook his head for effect. “I really think you do.”

The footman just huffed and tried to move past the Irishman, purposely barging into Tom’s shoulder as he made to step past him. Tom simply side stepped and cut him off, gentle laying his hands on the footman’s narrow shoulders.

“For god’s sake, let me past. You wanted me gone a minute ago!” Thomas snapped. He shrugged his shoulders but Tom wouldn’t be shaken off, not yet.

“I don’t think that women are your type, never mind Daisy!” Tom whispered. “Is that true?” He watched Thomas’s eyes widen as his lips primed at the accusation. He glared at Tom, inhaling a sharp breath as the chauffeur went on, “I don’t think that you can really deny it, can you, Thomas?”

“You’re wrong!” Thomas denied sharply, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t you?” Tom challenged, leaning closer so that his nose almost pressed against the footman’s.

“I don’t,” Thomas muttered, glaring at the chauffeur. “Get the hell out of my way.”

Thomas raised his arms and made to push Tom away but the Irishman was quicker. He fisted his hands into Thomas’s lapels, who lashed at him, desperate to throw Tom off but the chauffeur would not release him and as the pair jostled, a peculiar idea formed in Tom’s mind. Had he been calm, Tom may have decided against said idea but there was only one way that he could better Thomas; only one way to prove the man wrong and finally put him in his place.

Thomas was close to kicking Tom as he writhed in his arms like a ferocious cat. He shoved the man hard in the chest and smiled triumphantly when he stumbled, almost falling backwards from loss of balance. His victory did not last as Tom suddenly hooked his foot around Thomas’s ankle to pull him forwards. As Thomas fell into Tom’s broad chest, his shoulders were gripped again. He glared at Tom, furious but was surprised when the Irishman’s hands loosened their grip on his clothing, and moving upwards until Tom’s right hand lightly brushed the skin of his neck. He gaped at Tom, unsure as to what the chauffeur was planning. He was manoeuvred forwards as Tom’s reversed into the garage door. Thomas tried to protest but he couldn’t speak. His body was encouraged to turn as Tom swapped their positions and Thomas felt his back slamming into the wooden door frame. He was confused, hopelessly confused and didn’t know what to think, let alone do.

Tom was just as baffled. He had not thought his plan through. It was as though he was possessed, as if some other person had taken control of his body because never in his life would he, Tom Branson, hold Thomas bloody Barrow arms and keep him pressed against a door. His mind was disconnected from his limbs and he felt completely numb. He lifted his eyes and found Thomas staring at him, frightened. The footman did manage to regain some sense of his composure as he blinked and parted his lips, ready to speak. Before he could question Tom, the Irishman chauffeur's other hand disappearing into his hair, tangling itself in the short strands at the nape of his neck.

“Tom?” was all Thomas managed to whisper before the chauffeur crushed their mouths together, forcing Thomas into a violent, bruising kiss. Thomas’s lips parted involuntarily under the pressure of Tom’s searching tongue and a to his utter humiliation, a small whimper escape him. Tom bit his lower lip, sucking the tender flesh as Thomas let out another quiet whine.

Thomas was shocked. He was frightened and the sudden loss of control was terrifying. His palms began to sweat profusely and he was unable to think clearly as his mind had turned blank. The world around him seemed to fade away and then, like a candle blown out by a gust of wind, Tom broke the kiss.

The two men stood panting.

Thomas’s head was spinning and he could feel his body beginning to panic. Thomas felt as though he was drowning as he gasped for air, but his lungs seemed incapable of in taking oxygen and his heart was pounding madly in his chest. He was reminded of the time when he had almost drowned in the family bathtub as a small child after cracking his head against it’s side. In a desperate attempt to regain control, Thomas tried in vain to dig his fingers into the solid door at his back. He needed to hold onto something, _anything_ , but the door was smooth and flat. He couldn’t find it’s handle and he began to hyperventilate as he fingers scrabbled across it’s surface, desperately searching for a doorknob or groove in the wall. His body angled forward and he fell into a warm, solid weight. Tom. The man was still standing in front of Thomas. He was still clutching his hair.

“Easy. Um, just – just breathe,” Tom stuttered. Tom was also disorientated and eyes were glassy but he could see that Thomas needed to be soothed. He pulled the footman closer, entwining his arms around his shaking.

Thomas heaved air into his lungs with deep breaths. He lent heavily against Tom and rested his damp forehead against the man’s shaking shoulder, he whispered, “so what, are you like me then?”

“No,” Tom said breathlessly, “I’m not like you.”

“What was that for then?”

“Proving a point,” Tom whispered shakily before he swallowed nervously.

“Let me go then, Tom.”

“I can’t yet.”

“Please,” Thomas pleaded, “you’ve proven your point. What are you going to do?” He looked up and tried to catch the chauffeur's eye. “Are you going to tell Carson or his Lordship?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Thomas whispered.

Tom finally looked at the man’s ashen, frightened face. His red mouth was quivering slightly but his eyes, those haunting eyes, were dilated so that only a slither of light grey circled his dark pupils. Tom felt horribly guilty and wanted to look away but he couldn’t, not when the poor sod was staring at him so desperately. For the first time, Tom was able to see Thomas’s innocence; the beauty that lay below his terrible mask.

“ _Why not?_ ” Thomas repeated as he searched Tom’s eyes, looking for an answer.

Tom pitied him and realised that he may have taken this too far. If Thomas had of run to Carson and accused Tom of messing around with his Lordship’s daughter, Tom may have been able to deny all accusations and he believed that Sybil would have fought in his corner. If Tom ran to Carson and told the butler that Thomas was a homosexual…god knows what the outcome could be. Even if Thomas was able to stay, Carson would be on alert. Mrs Hughes would likely be told and then Mrs Patmore would hear the tale. Everyone, even the likes of Anna and Mr Bates, seemed to harbour suspicions already. God, he could ruin the boy’s life.

“I believe that people are people,” Tom spoke softly. “I think that a lot of terrible things happen in this world. Man kills man, man kills nature. I don’t think that the biggest crime against humanity is a man loving another man. There are worse things in life, greater sins being committed, if men like you are even sinners at all. I was taught to not worship false idols. Supposedly, even Christian is. Yet what do we do? We practically worship ourselves. We put words into the Lord’s mouth and we condemn those who we, man, believe to be sinners whilst turning a blind eye to the fact that we sin ourselves.”

Thomas’s expression was unreadable and blank but his shoulders were still shaking. Tom knew that he needed to tread carefully lest he upset the man. He was speaking honestly and he wanted Thomas to understand that he held no prejudice against his _inclinations_ , only his personality and actions. In this house, Thomas was disliked because he was rotten bully, not because he was a lavender sort.

“I believe that we aren’t god,” Tom continued, “I believe that since we aren’t the Lord, we have no right to say who should and shouldn’t be condemned to hell. Men like you, you can’t be changed. You are who you are. No amount of hate, laws, prisons, churches – nothing would ever change you, although I imagine that some men try to hide from who they really are. I don’t blame them, I’m sad for them. I don’t dislike you because of what you are.”

Thomas nodded slowly.

He looked small, vulnerable even. Tom had never seen him look so vulnerable before.

“That’s why you won’t say anything to Mr Carson?” Thomas whispered after a long silence, his voice slightly hoarse.

Tom nodded. “Yes, that’s why. If you keep your mouth shut about my friendship with Lady Sybil –“

“Friendship!” Thomas scoffed.

“Don’t start!” Tom warned, “I’m not apathetic to how difficult your life must be but if you start causing trouble for me, I’ll have no choice. There’s nothing going on between me and Lady Sybil.”

“Alright,” Thomas snapped. He glared coldly at Tom but eventually his expression softened and he relented, “Alright, I’m sorry.”

“Pardon?” Tom interrupted, shocked by Thomas’s apology.

Thomas blinked and repeated, “pardon?”

“Did you just say that you were sorry, Thomas Barrow?” Tom teased. “Has hell frozen over?”

“Oh shut up,” Thomas growled. “I couldn’t care less. I’ll keep quiet about you and Lady Sybil and you will keep quiet about…me. My opinion still stands however, I think she could do better.”

Tom huffed and and glanced down at Thomas’s hands. “Do we need to shake on this?”

“No,” Thomas shook his head. “We do not.”

“Learn from this.” Tom urged, “I think that you have a side to you, a good side. For some reason, you don’t seem keen on showing it. If you want to safe then stop treating everyone else like dirt. You aren’t as clever as you think you are and one day, you’ll be the cause of your own downfall.”

Thomas shrugged, nonchalant and stuck his hand into his pocket.

“Are you listening?” Tom demanded. “Thomas?”

“Yes,” he answered, although he was distracted by the cigarette packet in his hand. Before he could pull out a tab, his hair was pulled and forced backwards by Tom. His throat was exposed and before he could so much as squeak, Tom began to explore the smooth, pale skin of his neck with his mouth and tongue. It took a few seconds for Thomas to react. He spluttered and tried to pull away.

“Sorry,” Tom whispered against his skin. “I just...”

He didn’t finish his sentence; instead he opted to scrape his teeth against the tendons of Thomas’s neck. He was egged on by the soft huffs and whimpers that streamed from the footman’s mouth.

“I suppose I just haven’t held someone for a long time now,” he whispered, more to himself than Thomas.

Tom returned to Thomas’s neck, nibbling and sucking on the soft skin laid bare before him. He mouthed his way up to the man’s ear and smiled briefly when Thomas’s thin hands grasped onto his vest. He peppered kisses onto the footman’s cheek, ear and neck whilst Thomas wilted against him. Tom could feel himself hardening and he had to suppress a groan when he felt his crotch press into Thomas’s hip. He was too far gone to feel embarrassed and the way Thomas was moaning, he was likely hard himself.

“T – Tom,” Thomas mumbled, “ I could –“

“Shh,” Tom hushed him, pressing a kiss onto his ear. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t like – I mean, I’ve never even looked at a man…well, I’ve looked at _you_ , you’re handsome enough but I’ve not, you know…thought about you beyond that, ever.” He stopped when a finger was pressed to his lips.

“I was going to say that I could do something for you.” Thomas whispered shyly as a light blush spread across his pale cheeks.

Tom’s forehead puckered as he waited for further explanation. Instead of speaking, Thomas decided to show Tom what the _something_ was by sliding down onto his knees. Tom almost choked on the air as Thomas tilted his head upwards to gaze at Tom through dark eyelashes.

“You don’t have to,” Tom whispered hoarsely. “Thomas, it’s fine. I just had a moment…you don’t need to do that.”

“I wouldn’t mind and besides, when do I ever get the chance to do this? I’d be willing,” he assured, leaning forwards to ghost his lips over the chauffeur's ever hardening erection. He pulled away when Tom shuddered to ask, “unless you don’t want me to? I will stop if you don’t want –“

“Fuck it,” Tom raped, “I do. If you want to then – I can’t believe this – then yes, go ahead.”

Thomas arched a sly eyebrow and offered him a coy smile. “Think of it as a thank you for not dragging me back to the Abbey and throwing me at Carson’s feet.”

“Don’t!” Tom warned, “Thomas, don’t think of it as anything, alright? I don’t want you to feel…obliged or anything. If you want to do that then you can, I’d be…well, you’re down there so you just go on.”

“Oh,” Thomas breathed. “Alright.”

He leaned forward again and lay a gentle butterfly kiss onto the tip of Tom’s bulging cock. As he nuzzled him, he slowly traced his hands up Tom’s legs, careful not to startle the man with any sudden movements. He reached the top of the man’s trousers and paused.

“Are you certain?”  He purrs against Tom’s crotch.

“Yes!” Tom snaps, grabbing a fistful of Thomas’s hair. “You don’t have much time so if you’re – oh god, did that hurt? Sorry Thomas, I was a bit rough.”

“No, I liked it,” Thomas sighed, “pull my hair when I start.”

Tom could only swallow and nod. He watched Thomas slowly licks his lips, teasing Tom to make his offer impossible to resist. Smiling, Tom gave Thomas’s hair a sharp yank. The footman’s eyes fluttered shut as a finger slid down his cheek, tracing over his skin until it reached his parted lips.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Tom muttered as he slid his finger across Thomas’s bottom lip. He watched a small smile creep onto Thomas’s face and to his surprise and delight, the footman opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around Tom’s finger, suckling gently on the tip. “Uh,” he grunted, “keep doing that as well.”

Thomas smiled around his finger as slowly pulled his hand away from Thomas’s hair and reached down to unclasp his trousers. The footman’s head cocked as he listened to the rustle of clothing. He tipped his head back and opened his eyes. His lips quirked upwards and Tom stared open mouthed as Thomas began to lap at his finger, pressing light kitten licks onto his skin. His tongue was soft and he applied little pressure as he fluttered his eyelids shut. Tom was enthralled and could almost imagine Thomas as some sort of bizarre pet. Tom took up his battle with his trousers, Thomas waited impatiently on the floor, sliding his tongue along Tom’s finger. Feeling mischievous, he began to hum a simple tune as he sucked, drawing another moan from Tom.

“God Thomas!” Tom groaned, shaking his head as he pushed his trousers and underwear past his knees.

Thomas felt Tom’s trousers falling downwards and he cracked open an eye to see Tom gaping down at him, cock in hand.

“You look far too good on your knees, it’s not right.” Tom noted humorously. His eyes were twinkling with excitement and he was shaking slightly, all too aware of how _wrong_ the situation was. A part of Tom had always been drawn to danger. His mother used to call him a reckless boy. What was more dangerous than having Thomas Barrow, a _man_ , on his bloody knees, ready to swallow Tom’s prick.

“Shush,” Thomas murmured, ghosting his breath against the sensitive head of Tom’s cock.

He lent forward and placed a soft, light kiss on the tip. Tom’s hand flew into his hair again, which Thomas took as encouragement. He slid his tongue around the slit of Tom’s cock, moaning as he felt Tom pulling on the sensitive strands of his hair. Before the chauffeur could complain, he tipped his head downwards to slid his tongue along the length of Tom’s long shaft. He repeated this, savouring the musky scent of pure man as he lapped against a prominent vein. Tom’s breathing was erratic and he mumbled something incoherent as took a step forwards to lean an arm against the garage door. Thomas shuffled backwards and adjusting his position before he continued his task, taking Tom’s large balls into his mouth one at a time, suckling tenderly. Tom moaned loudly and bucked his hips forwards, pushing his cock into the footman’s face. He continued to wheeze and pant whilst Thomas pleasured him. Thomas seized the opportunity to torment Tom further and he reached behind the man’s thick waist pinch the firm globes of his arse.

“Jesus!” Tom choked, “you cheeky –“ but his words fell short when Thomas lightly nipped his skin with his sharp, pointed teeth. “ _Ahh_ , you bastard!

Thomas let Thomas’s ball topple wetly out of his mouth before he moved upwards to peck the head the head of his cock again. 

“Shh,” he breathed, his breath hot and moist against Tom’s skin as he rubbed soothing circles into the man’s hips. He lent forwards and gave Tom’s slit a firm lick before he engulfed Tom’s cock into his mouth, sliding downwards until he could feel the head of Tom’s cock resting against the back of his throat. He hummed and Tom howled, thrusting forward, unable to help himself. Thomas had expected this and immediately opened his mouth wider, as wide as he could manage and took the man’s prick all the way to the back of his throat, swallowing his cock inch by inch.

“I won’t last!” Tom cried, “Thomas, I’m not going to last.”

Losing all self-control, he began to wildly thrust into Thomas’s mouth, his movements so uncoordinated Thomas had to cling onto hips to hold him still. Tom mumbled a garbled apology but his words were cut off when Thomas hummed around the base of his cock. He also toppled backwards as ripples of pleasure washed over his body. His blunt fingers scraped across Thomas’s scalp and Thomas groaned, his eyes closing in bliss. Tom stared at him, slack mouthed and unfocused as he valiantly fought his impending orgasm. He was determined to last a little longer but he couldn’t, not when Thomas was so ridiculously skilled. He tried to resist, tried to pull Thomas’s hot mouth away from his pulsing cock but the footman refused to release him. He glanced up at Tom, his lustful gaze unrelenting as he purposely sucked nosily on Tom’s length. Tom threw his head back and thrusted deeply into Thomas’s mouth, smiling gleefully when he heard the footman gag. The extent of Thomas’s experience was revealed as he proved that he was still able to keep Tom in his mouth despite almost choking. Never one to be beaten, Thomas took his petty revenge and gently nipped at the head of Tom’s cock, grinning to himself when he heard the man hiss in pain. He swallowed his length again just as Tom exploded, his seed bursting against the back of Thomas’ throat, which he immediately began to swallow. Thomas swallowed every last drop of Tom’s release, even when he almost chokes. His own release had been building and when Tom screamed his name for the final time, all Thomas saw was white light.

 

 

“That was…that was good.” Tom finally manages to say.

The pair had rearranged their clothes and did their best to appear presentable. Thomas had borrowed Tom’s comb to smooth and restyle his hair but the pair had yet to make eye contact. 

Thomas awkwardly bid the chauffer goodnight, “I’m off then. See you in the morning. Or the afternoon. Whenever.” 

Tom had tried call out to him, to wish him a goodnight but he hesitated for too long and Thomas slipped out of the door without a backwards glance. His gait was different. He was running, running back to the Abbey. Tom hadn’t even realised that he had taken notice of Thomas’s usual manner of walking. At least he would be able to identify Thomas should he ever try to sneak up on Tom in the future.

 Soon, Thomas’s footsteps faded and away and Tom became all too aware that he was alone once again. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. The door that Thomas had left open creaked slightly as it swayed in the gentle night breeze. Tom could smell petrol, brass polish, nicotine and his own sweat. He stared around the room, just as Thomas had done and wondered if anything had changed. His newspapers were still stacked in a neat pile. All of his equipment, the spare tires, his tools, his gloves, none of it had been touched.

Then Tom looked down at the floor and spotted the remains of Thomas’s crumpled cigarette. Tom bent down and plucked it from the ground. He dusted away the black ash and nicotine with his foot and put the blackened paper onto a shelf, hidden behind the jaw of polish.

Then he turned off all of the lights, locked the garage and walked away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, Tom lay dozing in his bed. His body was exhausted but he could not sleep. As he in and out of consciousness, he kept picturing pale skin and red lips. The memories served as a powerful aphrodisiac but Tom was not able to determine whether he was picturing Lady Sybil or Thomas Barrow. He was too tired to care regardless.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


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